Who Doesn't Love A Good Apocalypse?
by Morwen Tindomerel
Summary: Murphy is finally forced to face the reality of Harry's magic. Morgan has to face that Harry has been right about something and Bob is concerned and cynical.
1. Chapter 1

I was out of the city, out of my jurisdiction and nearly out of gas when the perp's car pulled to the side of the highway and stopped. I went right on by. It was pitch black out, despite the early hour, and he had to have seen my lights. I couldn't pull over without him knowing I was a tail so I drove on. Luckily there was a turnoff into a half built subdivision not too far ahead, I parked on the nearest building site drew my gun and got out of the car.

Overhead the sky was working itself up to a storm with flashes of sheet lightning illuminating boiling clouds as the wind kicked up whipping my hair all over the place. I kept clawing it out of my eyes with the hand that wasn't holding the gun as I crept carefully back towards the perp's car, flitting from the cover of a house frame to a pile of timber to a cement mixer. Then I saw him, the perp, standing in the middle of a winding dirt track that would someday be a suburban road with a cutsie name with a long stick like a wizard's staff in his hand - and I saw what was facing him:

A tall man silhouetted against the flashing sky wreathed in his very own aura of leashed lightning. It was dramatic as all hell and it was Harry Dresden. He had that hockey stick of his in his right hand and the drumstick he carries around in his left pointing at the ground. Blue-white light dripped off him in little flares and his face…

The Harry Dresden I know is a gangly, apologetic faintly worried looking guy and the worst liar in the world. I mean forget a polygraph a six year old can see right through him. This was not that Harry Dresden: His face was set like stone, the mouth a long hard line and the deep set eyes burned. I mean literally burned with that blue-white fire. This was a being – I can't say man – I did not recognize. And he was terrifying.

I think the perp agreed. They exchanged a few words, drowned out and blow away by the rising wind, and then they began to fight. The perp used hellish red fire and waves of crackling blackness flowing from his staff. Harry's weapon was the storm; thunder detonated like a bomb overhead and rain pounded down drowning the hell fire and then he hurled lightning from his hockey stick, shredding the blackness.

The perp changed tactics. He ripped holes in the night and things came through, things with too many eyes, too many teeth, and far too many writhing tentacles. Harry blasted the first to bits with lightning, tore the second apart with wind and shredded the third with the driving rain and his expression didn't change once while he did it.

The perp changed tactics again. The clouds tore overhead showing a rift of sky and suddenly the perp was shrouded in an electric aura of his own like he was trying to take control of the storm from Harry. The air sizzled with lightning bolts the thunder was a continuous roar and the wind formed a tornado-like vortex encircling the two of them.

I wanted to look away - to run away. God knows that would've been the smart thing to do but instead I stayed rooted on the spot, my glazed eyes reflecting the fireworks and the word 'Wizard' running through my head on continuous loop. Not a scam, not a gimmick. Harry was a wizard, a staff wielding wand waving wizard minus the robe and pointy hat. He was Gandalf in sneakers, Merlin with a shop front office, a grown up Harry Potter. And from what I was seeing he could've wiped the floor with all three at once without breaking into a sweat.

It was hard to see through the wind and rain and dazzle but the two wizards seemed to be fighting hand to hand, or rather hockey stick to staff. Then, suddenly, the tornado gathered itself together and went whirling up into the night leaving a single swaying figure behind. Harry crumpled to his knees then reeled forward onto his hands before collapsing with a splash right into a mud puddle. Now _that_ was the Harry Dresden I knew! I ran to turn him over before he drowned in two inches of water. His head lolled limply and I could see he was down for the count but he was breathing. I checked him over, skull and body, nothing was broken and he seemed to be okay even if unconscious. I made sure he wasn't going to roll right back into the mud and ran for my car.

It wasn't exactly easy loading six foot three of soaking wet dead weight into my backseat but I managed it, pushing and pulling until all of him was inside, sprawled across the seat, then I got behind the wheel and tried to catch my breath. Okay, I had him. Now what was I going to do with him? And what the hell had he done with my perp? One thing for sure – this was not going in my report!

…..

We were back in city before I heard stirring in the back seat, "Dresden?"

"Murphy?"

I took a quick look in the rearview mirror. He'd pulled himself up into a slouched sitting position and he was wearing the familiar Harry-face again, complete with that cute little frown he gets when he's confused. But his eyes were weird, black and reflective like the pupil had swallowed up the brown. I quickly looked back at the road.

"How -?"

"I followed Sheldrake."

I heard him swallow. "You saw?"

"An eyeful."

Another gulp, "Hells bells."

"You can say that again," I said flatly making the turn onto my street. I took another look in the rearview; he was slumped back in the seat his eyes closed. "Are you all right?"

He tried to shrug but couldn't quite manage it. "I guess. That took just about everything I've got."

I pulled into my driveway. "Can you walk?"

He could, just barely. I lowered him onto the deacon's bench just inside the kitchen door and went to the laundry room for a double armload of towels. "Get out of those wet clothes," I told him dropping a pile next to him, "I'll find you something to wear." I continued up the stairs to my room and my closet.

Luckily my Dad is a big man. Even luckier he'd left a set of sweats behind in the wash after his last visit. I went back downstairs, dropped the sweats by Harry, helped him with his shoes and then went up to change myself. In slightly more time than it takes to tell we were facing each other across the kitchen table and mugs of instant coffee.

I risked a look and saw his eyes were back to normal. "God, Harry, you scared me shitless."

He shivered, cupping his mug between trembling hands. "I scared me too, Murph."

Oh, great. "So what happened to Sheldrake?"

"Dead," said a new voice by the door.

Harry was on his feet, steadying himself on the table, with that cold scary fury back in his face. "Touch her and take my Death Curse!"

The good looking, well dressed black man who'd suddenly appeared in my kitchen raised empty hands in the universal gesture for peace. "I am not here to harm either of you."

Harry's brow crinkled. "Okay. That's a switch."

"Yes." The man pulled out a chair and sat down heavily. "I found Peabody, or what's left of him. The storm tore him apart."

I decided it was time to take charge – it was my kitchen after all. "Who's Peabody and who are you?"

"This is Morgan," Harry answered, "He's a sort of colleague of yours, a wizard cop. Peabody was Sheldrake's real name. He was a wizard too – an important one."

"Cut to the chase," I interrupted, "what the hell is this all about?"

"Me," Harry said flatly. "He killed those people as bait. It was all a trap, Murphy, for me."

Suddenly the icy rage hardening his face became a whole lot more understandable and a lot less scary. "So what makes you so important?"

"Peabody was setting up Dresden to take the blame for his own crimes," the wizard called Morgan said quietly. "And I fell for it."

The fury on Harry's face softened into something like sympathy. "For what it's worth, Morgan, I really wish I'd been wrong."

The other man lowered his head rubbing his hands across his face. "So do I, Dresden, so do I."

Harry raised his mug for a sip and choked on it. "Bob! He must be going out of his mind, I gotta get home!"

My kitchen went to pieces and reformed into Harry's back room with the three of us sitting in the same positions around his table. My coffee cup had come with me and I kind of wished it contained something stronger, especially when a white haired man in a dark suit erupted through – yes _through_ – the wall.

"Harry, my God, what happened!" then he saw me and the wizard cop and froze in his tracks, pale eyes darting between us.

"Murphy, meet my roommate Bob," Harry said calmly and explained "He's a ghost."

"I kind of figured that," I managed.

"How do you do, Leftenant Murphy," he said politely in a British accent and moved to stand behind the fourth chair frowning across at Morgan. "May I ask why the Leftenant is being involved?"

Harry blinked. "Yeah, good question. What happened to no mortals allowed, Morgan?"

"Given what she has already discovered it only makes sense to include her," he answered flatly. "It's not over, Dresden, we may need the help or at least the silence of the mortal authorities."

Harry frowned. "Why do I get the feeling I haven't heard the worst of it yet?"

"Because you haven't, the High Council has disbanded."

"What!" Harry and Bob chorused.

"I never thought I'd hear myself say it but that's bad," said Harry.

"I must agree," said Bob, pallid brow creasing. "Heaven knows I am no friend of the High Council but without them to enforce the Laws of Magic the mortal world, the very balance of the universe is threatened."

"Oh, great," I said. That wasn't going into my report either!

"One member of the High Council was turned," Morgan continued. "It is probable that he is not the only one. The council lost all credibility, dissolution was the only option." He looked Harry very deliberately and very steadily in the eye. "At this moment, Dresden, the only two wizards in the world that I trust are sitting in this room."

Harry returned the look, "That include Ancient Mai?"

Something like pain twisted Morgan's handsome features. "Yes."

Harry quirked an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth. "So, it's just you and me against the Legions of Hell huh?"

"_Please_ tell me you don't mean that literally!" I begged.

"Hopefully it will not come to that, Leftenant," Bob said less than reassuringly. "The question however is whether Harry can trust you, Warden Morgan."

"I do," Harry said flatly. "You're an SOB, Morgan, but you'd die before you'd touch the Black."

A ghost of a smile crossed Morgan's face. "Thank you, Dresden, I consider that a compliment."

Harry shrugged, "Just a statement of fact."

"So," Bob's British voice dripped sarcasm. "We have the two of you –"

"And you and Murphy," Harry interrupted.

"Four then, including a mortal police officer and a damned soul," Bob amended, "against an unknown number of Council level Black sorcerers and the rest of the supernatural world."

"Yep," said Harry. He leaned back in his chair a wry look of resigned amusement on his face and wriggled his eyebrows at Morgan. "Where do we start?"

"We don't. Not tonight," Bob said flatly. "Harry, you are physically exhausted and magically drained you are going to bed. Warden Morgan, please help Harry upstairs."

Neither man argued. After they'd disappeared up the stairs to the loft Bob the ghost turned to me. "What happened tonight?"

I told him and I swear he got paler as I talked. "Harry channeled the storm, without a protective circle or ritual support?" he blurted.

"Not that I could see," I answered.

Bob looked decidedly shaken. "Incredible," he muttered. "To control elemental forces like that…I knew he was strong but…"

"He scared me," I confessed. "He didn't look human."

Bob looked kind of spooked himself. "I can imagine." He squared his shoulders. "If you will excuse me, Leftenant, I think I'd better take closer look at Harry, make sure he's all right." He vanished in a trail of smoke and orange lights that coiled up to the loft. After the events of the night I barely blinked.

A minute or so later Warden Morgan came down the stairs. "Lieutenant Murphy, I think it would be best if you stayed here tonight. We have no way of knowing what allies Peabody had and how much they know. You could be in danger."

"And Harry certainly is," I said looking upward.

Morgan nodded. "Yes. I too will be spending the night. He is in no condition to defend himself."

"Damned soul?" I asked.

He followed me. "Yes. Hrothbert of Bainbridge a necromancer and Black sorcerer under the curse of the High Council.

I considered that. "So we're talking seriously evil here, a real live – uh dead – Voldemort, who at this moment is upstairs clucking over Harry like broody hen?"

Morgan grimaced. "Yes."

"Is it because I don't understand magic that I find that incongruous?" I asked politely.

"No."

"Real chatty guy, aren't you?"

He gave a little snort that might have been a kind of laughter and for the first time seemed to relax just a bit. "Forgive me, Lieutenant, it has been a – trying night."

"I get it," I said quietly. "Your world has just fallen apart on you." It's a feeling I am all too familiar with. He nodded tightly and I went on; "And if you and Harry, and Bob and I can't find a way to fix things my world is going to follow it right down the drain."

"Most probably," he agreed.

"Okay, I can deal with that." I said firmly, trying to convince myself.

Morgan looked at me with respect, one cop to another. "I believe you can, Lieutenant."

"So what can two cops, one mortal one wizardly, a formerly evil ghost and Harry Dresden do to save the world?" I wondered.

"May I suggest we discuss that in the morning?" he answered with a ghost of a smile

It was my turn to make of snort of what wasn't quite laughter. "If I hadn't seen Harry in action I'd say the world was doomed but since I have –" I broke off at the look on Morgan's face, it sent little chills down my back. "He scares you too," I said flatly.

He nodded gravely. "Yes."

I took a deep breath. "Well, let's hope the bad guys are at least as scared of him as we are."


	2. Chapter 2

Morgan drew a sword – yes _sword_ - from under his brown coat and moved towards the shop-front doors raising the point to trace one of the strange symbols Harry had painted on the doorframe. As he did so the sign glowed with a pale golden light that gradually brightened to near white. More magic, it made me feel twitchy. I decided I really didn't need to watch this and turned back to the kitchen climbing the stairs to the loft.

Harry was invisible beneath a tatty comforter. Bob stood brooding over him radiating love and concern, evil sorcerer my eye. "Bob," I hissed.

He looked up and moved to head of the stair; "Yes, Leftenant?"

I nodded towards Harry. "How is he?"

He shot a worried glance over his shoulder. "More drained than I have ever seen him but I cannot detect any permanent damage."

"Sheldrake-Peabody was torn to pieces," I said. It wasn't exactly a question.

"Yes." The monosyllable fell flat between us.

"Blankets," I suggested, "pillows?"

Bob blinked at the abrupt chance of subject then equally suddenly shifted from worried mentor to gracious host. "Of course, I beg your pardon, Leftenant. You will find bedclothes in the cupboard under the stair."

Smoke and sparks followed me back down the stairs and Bob reformed himself in front of the cupboard door. "It sticks a bit I'm afraid."

It did but after a few good heaves I got the door open. Harry owned three sets of sheets, a plethora of pillowcases – no two matching – an afghan, a quilt and what looked like an old horse blanket, not a bad collection for a bachelor. There was also an extra pillow. "So," I said, stuffing said pillow into a flannel pillowcase. "You were evil huh?"

Bob's face went stony, his eyes bleak. "Yes."

I picked up the afghan with my spare hand and kicked the cupboard door closed; "How evil, on a scale of one to ten?"

"Twelve." He bit off the word.

I sat on Harry's couch, punched the pillow into shape and wedged it against the arm. "Good."

Bob blinked then walked across the room to stand over me as I lay down under the afghan. "I beg your pardon?"

I shrugged as I tried to settle myself comfortably on the lumpy sofa. "We're going up against serious magical bad-guys right? It'll be real handy having somebody around who knows the type and how it thinks."

"The Lieutenant makes a good point," Morgan agreed coming from the hall. He subsided into Harry's broken recliner sticking his sword point down in the floor. "Well, Hrothbert, you know as much as we do - any speculation?"

Bob frowned consideringly, one hand moving to twiddle with the heavy ring he wore on the other. "As you know Justin Morningway was engaged in a plot against the High Council six years ago –"

"That would be the High Council that's disbanded leaving us all in the lurch?" I inquired.

"That is correct."

"Just checking," good to know I was up to speed.

"The Council in its infinite wisdom concluded that Morningway had acted alone," Bob continued to me, "though several members, including Ancient Mai the head of the Council, chose to regard Harry as a co-conspirator who managed to escape justice on a technicality."

"Harry?" I started to laugh then I remembered what I'd seen earlier in the night and choked on it.

"Dresden was known to have used Black magic against his uncle," Morgan said quietly.

"Accidently, in the midst of a desperate struggle," Bob snapped. "Harry killed Morningway in self-defense, Leftenant."

I looked at Morgan. He nodded heavily. "That is true. But Black magic is seductive and highly addictive. A practitioner who has fallen once is likely to do so again."

"If you're trying to tell me Harry's evil I'm not buying it," I answered. No man who'd put himself in harm's way as many times as Harry had, for innocent and not so innocent people alike, could be anything but good. Not bright maybe but good. Sure I'd arrested him a couple of times but deep down I'd never really believed he was guilty of anything but yanking my chain.

"I did," Morgan said flat and bleak.

"I was not in Justin Morningway's confidence," Bob continued grimly. "But I did witness his final confrontation with Harry. You may recall, Warden Morgan, I said at the trial that Morningway had spoken of 'others' I suggest that those others were considerably higher placed than anyone suspected."

"Sheldrake-Peabody," I said.

"And possibly others," Bob added, his pale eyes on Morgan.

"I agree," said the Warden heavily.

I hiked myself a little higher on the pillow. "Okay, so they've achieved their first aim – the High Council is history. Any idea what their next move is likely to be?"

"Yes," Bob answered, "It will be against Harry."

"Say what?" I said blankly.

Morgan leaned forward. "Explain yourself, ghost."

"Gladly," said Bob. "Justin Morningway went to considerable lengths to obtain custody of his nephew as a child and to recruit him as a man. We know that Harry is an unusually powerful wizard – presumably so did the conspirators. Failing to co-opt Harry for their cause they have done their best to eliminate him as an opponent. As long as the Council existed they had to work covertly by feeding suspicion and prejudice against him. Now that the Council has fallen they can and will attack him openly."

There was a silence as we all digested that. I thought of Harry asleep upstairs, exhausted and defenseless. Of all the times I'd seen him bruised, bloodied and vulnerable. And I thought about him facing down Sheldrake-Peabody hurling lightning and thunder like some ancient god. I shivered and I didn't know whether it was out of fear _for_ Harry of fear _of _him.

Morgan nodded slowly, coming to some decision. "Given that we have no idea who our enemy is or what their plan may be, it's fortunate that we can count on them to come to us."

Well that was one way of looking at it.

…..

A deep resonant sound like big bell knocked me out of a light doze. I opened my eyes to see Morgan disappearing down the hall. I flung aside the afghan and hurtled after him, sliding to a halt at the back of the shop-front. Bob came through the wall a second later and together we took in the scene before us.

A thing with a woman's body and a demon's face stood in the entrance, both doors were flung wide but it – she? – was being held outside by a wavering gold-white magic force field. Morgan stood facing her, sword in hand. His back was to us but the demon woman was clearly pissed.

"Have you gone mad?" she almost shouted.

"No, Mai," he answered, his deep voice calm as a dose of valium. "I have finally gone sane."

I leaned towards Bob. "That thing's the boss Wizard?"

He nodded, pale eyes not moving from the confrontation before us.

"Yeeks!" I said softly. Harry had _that_ gunning for him?

"You're siding with _Dresden!_" The demon wizard was saying with furious disbelief.

"I am allying myself with the only Wizard in our world who is certainly not implicated in a Black magic conspiracy of unknown extent that has already succeeded in taking out the High Council." Morgan returned evenly.

She stared at him. First the anger went out of the demon-face then it morphed into a woman's, young, pretty, Asian - and stricken. "You suspect me," she said in shock. "Me?"

Morgan nodded. "Yes, Mai, I do." His voice was barely above a whisper and the hand holding the sword quivered ever so slightly but he continued steadily. "Harry Dresden is a threat to the conspiracy – and you have been pushing for his head since the day he killed Justin Morningway."

Mai looked like I would look if Kirmani came out and accused me of being a dirty cop. Like a trust, a partnership she'd relied on had suddenly broken in her hands. Then she went demon again, angry demon. "You're trusting in a Morninway," she hissed, I mean literally hissed like a snake or a steam kettle, "a _Morningway?"_

The sword came up again. "I am trusting Harry Dresden," Morgan answered.

"Justin Morningway's nephew," a claw-like hand stabbed towards Bob, who flinched, "_His_ student!"

"Oh give me a break!" It wasn't until everybody, including the ghost, turned to stare at me that I realized I'd spoken aloud. I seemed to have the floor so I walked forward to stand next to Morgan, only then realizing just how tense he was. "You don't know squat about Harry do you?" I asked old demon face. "So, he comes from a bad family. So Bob here made Voldemort look like choir boy umpteen centuries ago, none of that's got a damn thing to do with who Harry Dresden is and what he does, which is help people. And frankly, lady," I finished, "if I had to pick who was the evil wizard around here I'd choose you!"

Bob's faint, "Oh my word," was clearly audible in the stunned silence.

I was on a roll. "On the off chance you aren't the bad guy you might want to take a closer look at this Wizard Peabody's associates instead of picking on Harry. In the meantime we've got better things to do than stand around arguing with you." I snagged a door handle in each hand and slammed them right in that demonic face. I looked up at Morgan, his mouth was hanging open. "So that was your boss?"

"Yes," he seemed to be testing his voice as if not quite sure it was in working order.

"Oh my," Bob seemed to be having trouble with his voice too. If he hadn't been dead I'd have offered him some smelling salts. "Leftenant Murphy you have just insulted the former head of the High Council and quite possibly the most powerful wizard in the world."

I walked past him on my way back to the couch. "So? I've already got God knows how many wizards gunning for me, what's one more?"

…..

Harry laughed himself sick. "God," he said, wiping the tears from his eyes, "wish I'd seen that."

"I can't quite believe I did," Morgan said dryly.

The hour was ungodly. Harry's bathroom mirror told me I looked like five miles of bad road after a broken night in his sofa. And all he had in the way of breakfast was cheerios – without milk. No wonder he's so skinny.

I took a sip of the instant dreck Harry uses for coffee. "Come on, guys, give me some help here. I need to close the Sheldrake case and the truth just won't cut it."

"No kidding," Harry's flexible face furrowed in concentration. "You said you'd found Peabody's body, Morgan, what did you do with it?"

"Brought it to the Council chamber to prove my case," he answered.

"Can you get it back?"

Morgan considered, "Probably."

"That was a huge storm last night," I said slowly. "I could say my suspect was killed by a tornado."

"Which in fact is almost exactly what happened," Morgan agreed.

"I'm going to need something to tie Sheldrake decisively to the murders though," I continued, thinking out loud.

"I'm sure that can be arranged," said Morgan.

…..

"I guess God is on the side of the CPD."

I finished signing on the dotted line put the form into the finished pile and reached for another before looking up at Kirmani leaning over the partition between my cubical and his. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Sid."

He gave me his patented 'you gotta be kidding' look. "Come on, boss, who's the one who always says suspect coincidence?"

"Me," I answered, writing my badge number on the top of form twenty or thirty. "But unless you believe somebody other than God called that storm down on Sheldrake after planting an address book full of the victim's names and information in his pocket, a coincidence is what we've got." Wizards may be quick to anger but mine weren't at all subtle. I mean talk about obvious, guys!

Normally I hate the paperwork associated with closing a case but today I actually enjoyed it, reveling in the normality of it all and sometimes forgetting for minutes at a time that my life had taken a sharp right into the Twilight Zone. I now had saving the world as a second career and if my wizardly associates and I failed the normalcy I was currently enjoying would be history – but hey, no pressure!

I drove home at the end of the day to find my house full of wizards. I walked through my front door and there was Harry, face intent as he finished daubing a weird symbol on the solid oak divider between living and dining rooms. Looking around I saw signs everywhere; on the paneling, the damask wallpaper, every window frame, the carved mantle over the fireplace and even the ceiling. "Dresden!" He jerked around to stare at me, brush dripping on the hardwood floor. "What the hell are you doing!"

He made calming motions with his other hand. "Easy, Murph –"

"Easy!" I fairly shrieked, "What have you done to my living room!"

Suddenly Bob was at my side. "Harry is incorporating defensive wards into your home, Leftenant. It is necessary for your safety –"

"Unless you want move in with me," Harry finished for him with a suggestive smirk I took a step forward with murder in my heart and he flung up both hands defensively. "It'll be okay, Murph, I promise. Just let me finish."

"Please, milady," Bob coaxed.

I growled in my throat but hey, the damage was done so I plopped myself in the nearest chair and divided my glares between the ghost and his wizard as Harry finished defacing my historic woodwork. Then he picked up his hockey stick, which had been leaning against the back of the couch, and took up a stance in the middle of the room stick held blade end up at arm's length and bowed his head in concentration.

The hockey stick started to glow gold. I swallowed, I _really_ don't like magic. Blue-white energy uncomfortably similar to the lightnings I'd seen Harry wielding the night before coursed down the stick illuminating strange signs written in light. Power exploded from the hockey stick and I shrank into myself as tendrils of light shot out in all directions touching the painted symbols and making them blaze. The walls of my house fluoresced golden - just like Harry's hockey stick. And then abruptly it was over; my living room was back to normal, no lights no painted symbols. Harry's hockey stick was just a piece of wood and Harry himself was dropping onto the couch and breathing hard.

I unwound myself slowly; "That it?" He nodded slightly, his head rolling back to rest on the sofa. "You okay?"

"Sure," he said not opening his eyes.

I looked at Bob, he nodded reassuringly. "Setting wards is fairly energy consuming, Leftenant." He thought a minute, trying to come up with a comparison I could comprehend. "Rather like running a mile."

"Except your legs aren't sore the next day," Harry said.

Morgan came in from the hall. "I am finished upstairs," he said to Harry then gave me a polite nod. "Good evening, Lieutenant Murphy."

"Yeah, just terrific," I reached into my purse and took out a tightly folded wad of papers. "Copies of the evidence from the Sheldrake case," I explained holding it out to him. "I thought maybe you'd see something in it we missed."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." He took the papers over to a chair, unfolded them and started reading.

"So, anybody try to kill Harry yet?" I asked the room at large.

"I have managed to resist the temptation," Morgan replied, eyes on the reports. Harry smirked.

"Me too," I said, "though I came close when I found him painting graffiti all over my living room."

"Hey, how about some trust here?" Harry asked finally opening his eyes.

"You are a loose cannon, Dresden," Morgan said.

"Amen," I agreed with feeling; powerful, unpredictable and dangerous as hell. I looked at Harry sprawled on my couch, all cute, scruffy and vulnerable, and sighed. Getting my head around both of his aspects was going to take some doing.


	3. Chapter 3

Golden sparks streamed from Morgan's sword like tiny lightning bolts, pale and washed out compared to the intense blue white beam thick around as my wrist put out by Harry's hockey stick. Unfortunately neither attack seemed to bother the demon much. It was about twelve feet tall and looked exactly like the genie in Aladdin - yes the animated film - complete with blue skin and smoke instead of legs but notably lacking Robin Williams' sense of humor.

Yeah, you could say my life has gotten interesting.

The hammer of my gun clicked on an empty chamber and I realized I was out of silver bullets, for all the good they'd done. "Okay, Bob, is there anything _else_ we can try?"

The ghost stood behind me as I crouched on the concrete floor of the warehouse (why is it always a warehouse?) behind the meager cover provided by a few broken crates. His arms were folded tightly around him and his teeth worried at his lower lip. His eyes were glued on Harry and full of fear. "Bob!"

That got his attention. He looked around a little wildly then pointed at the charcoal circle somewhat to the left of the fight. "Over there."

It wasn't as if I really needed cover, Harry and Morgan were keeping the demon fully occupied even if they weren't making much progress. As usual I was carrying the skull in a shoulder bag which basically meant I had Bob on a leash some four or five feet long, he couldn't move unless I did.

I stepped over the headless corpse of our latest sorcerer wannabe bringing Bob within range of the circle. He knelt to examine its weird symbols and sigils. "Something?" I asked.

"If you will assist me, Constanza," he drew a glowing golden sign just above the floor. I obediently picked up one of the broken pieces of charcoal littering the floor and traced it.

Bob moved a little way around the circumference of the circle and sketched another pair of signs for me to repeat in charcoal. Suddenly the quality of the demon's roars changed; they got smaller and a lot higher.

Looking up I saw that Aladdin's genie had morphed into…into a smurf? All of a sudden it was about two feet high with oversized head and little spindly arms. I looked wildly at Bob and he gave me a snarky smile and a shrug. Over at the fight Morgan's jaw dropped in disbelief and Harry tried, not very successfully, to choke down a laugh. The distraught demon spun around a time or two decided he was out-sized and out-classed and vanished with a pop.

Harry sat down on the ground and sobbed with laughter. Morgan watched him for a moment, then cracked a smile of his own and sheathed his sword. I looked back at Bob. "Okay, how the heck did we do that with no magic?"

He smirked. "The circle was already empowered, Constanza, we simply manipulated the energies a little."

"A lot," Harry corrected as Morgan hauled him to his feet. "Bob, you're a genius!"

"I know," the ghost said smugly.

…

"Another night, another demon," I said in the car on our way back to Harry's. "Is it just me or are we making no progress at all?"

"It is not just you, Murphy," Morgan said ruefully, next to me behind the wheel.

"Guess I'm not as important a target as we thought," Harry added from the back seat.

"Perhaps," Bob said grimly. "On the other hand we are being very effectively pinned down."

"True," Morgan agreed.

"We got to stop reacting and go on the offensive," I said for maybe the zillionth time.

"I agree, Murphy," said Morgan, "but how?"

Damn.

"We send Murphy to talk to Ancient Mai," said Harry.

Morgan nearly ran a red light. I turned in the seat to stare over the back at Harry. "Me? why me?"

"Mai is likely the enemy, Harry," said Morgan.

"I don't think so," Harry's face was thoughtful in the shadows.

"She has pursued you without mercy from the day of your uncle's death," said Bob, voice rising. There's nothing like a threat to Harry to blow that British cool of his.

Harry shrugged. "Not liking me means she has rotten taste, not that she's a bad guy. Come on, Morgan, you've worked with her for how many centuries? You know her."

The former warden's profile might have been set in stone. "I wonder, Harry, I truly wonder. I always knew she used and manipulated me but I was all right with it because I believed in her. Now -"

"- You don't," Harry finished for him. "But I do," he looked at Bob, "even when she was making my life hell it was because she thought it was the right thing to do." He shrugged again. "Besides, it's not like she hasn't got me nailed."

"Harry!" Bob and I shouted in chorus.

"What are you talking about?" Morgan demanded tightly.

"I am tempted by the Black," he answered quietly. "And I've given in to that temptation more than once. I'm not you, Morgan, I don't have your immovable integrity. So far I've managed to hold on. I hope I always will – but who knows?"

I looked uneasily at Morgan. Bob was looking at him too, pale eyes apprehensive. Luckily he didn't take Harry's confession the way we were afraid he would.

"There is no Darkness in you, Harry," Morgan answered as quietly. "I have Seen your soul. Mai was wrong about you – and I was wrong to trust her judgment over my own."

I decided it was time to bring down the emotional temperature and get back on topic. "Okay, it's good to know you guys love each other. Let's go back to the part about me facing Ancient Mai, Why _me_ the plain vanilla mortal?"

"Because you are plain vanilla," Harry explained.

Morgan nodded, "As an ordinary mortal you have a degree of protection from the Accords that neither Harry nor I enjoy."

"Besides, you're not scared of Mai," Harry added grinning impishly, "and we are."

"Who says I'm not," I answered a little absently as I thought it over. "Can we even find her?"

"I think so."

…

Harry and Morgan vanished into the lab the moment we got back, presumably to do whatever voodoo they had to do to find Ancient Mai. I preferred not to watch. I am still less than comfortable with magic, and especially with watching Harry work it. He looks a little too much like the Scary Harry in my nightmares.

I took the cursed skull out of the bag and put it on Harry's desk. "What do you think, Bob?"

Smoke and orange sparks trailed out of the skull's eyeholes to become our elegant silver fox of an ancient evil sorcerer. "To be frank, Constanza, I would prefer to avoid Ancient Mai under any and all circumstances."

"Can't say I blame you there," I said subsiding onto the leather tufted sofa. "Will it really be safer for me than for the guys?"

"Oh indubitably."

"Great. Bob, is Black Magic really that addictive?"

"Oh yes," he answered grimly then made an effort to continue more lightly; "A minor spell to relax a fair young lady's inhibitions here, an enemy removed there, the next thing you know you're dressed all in black and cackling madly whilst plotting to take over the world."

"I can't see you cackling, Bob," I said and gave him a broad wink. "But I bet you looked great in basic black!"

"Stunning!" he agreed smugly.

Yes, I was flirting with the ghost. Not my usual behavior by any means but Bob would insist on treating me like a lady instead of one of the guys – and don't ask me why it was less irritating coming from him than from Harry – but more importantly when we bantered the look of pain in his eyes would fade, almost disappear.

I don't pretend to understand exactly what those bastards on the defunct High Council had done to him when they cursed and bound his soul but I knew he'd been hurting every day - every hour - every single damn minute of the eight hundred odd years since. I wasn't sure Harry knew. When Bob looked at him love, annoyance, pride, fear and a dozen other emotions crowded out the pain. But Morgan surely did. I'd noticed how carefully he avoided catching Bob's eye.

"Harry would look terrible in black," I continued musingly.

Bob nodded. "Quite. For the sake of aesthetics alone he must be kept on the straight and narrow."

"Not that gray thermal shirts are all that becoming either." I shook my head. "Bob, how did a man with your elegant taste manage to raise a man with none at all?"

He heaved a theatrical sigh. All such gestures were histrionic of course, he didn't breath. "I have no idea, Constanza. It's all I can do to get him to shave regularly. Perhaps the right young lady -"

"One that isn't trying to steal you or get a story," I added

"Or drink his blood," said Bob.

I rolled my eyes. "Let's face it Harry is a lousy picker."

He smiled slightly, "Not always, Constanza, not always."

Luckily Morgan and Harry came into the office just then saving me from having to find an answer to that one.

"Ancient Mai's in Scotland," Harry told me.

"Edinburgh to be precise," Morgan added.

I stared at them both. "Why the hell would an ancient Chinese witch hang out in Scotland?"

"Wizard," Morgan corrected. "And probably because Edinburgh was the seat of the High Council."

"When there was one," said Harry. "What do you say, Murph, will you go?

It was a rotten idea, but we had to do _something_ and at the very least we'd find out which side Ancient Mai was on. So I took a week off, God knows I had the vacation time coming, and got on a plane to Scotland to confront an ancient Chinese wizardess who might or might not be dressed in black and cackling as she plotted to take over the world.

…

Morgan had given me careful instructions on how to find the chambers of the late, unlamented High Council. The first step, believe it or not, was to sign up for a Ghost tour, which by the way cost a small fortune. It seemed back in the 16th century the Cowgate neighborhood of Edinburgh had been _the_ place to live and a certain wizardly Scottish laird had had his townhouse there. When he succeeded as head of the council he excavated labyrinth of elaborate chambers underneath his house for the use of same. Centuries passed and the house was torn down to make way for an 18th century overpass with a sort of mall underneath it. These so called vaults were supposedly haunted by all sorts of ghosts but what really mattered was that the High Council's chambers had their sole physical outlet through a chapel-like cavern at the far end.

Our guide met the thirty odd of us well after dark under a stone cross on the High Street. He wore a black cloak and had a beautiful baritone voice with a furry Scottish accent. The whole thing was atmospheric as hell. If I hadn't spent the last several weeks fighting demons, vampires and mad sorcerers I'd probably have been impressed. As it was I was slightly bored.

The vaults were damp, barely lit by candles and extremely unpleasant. To think people had actually lived there – and why they'd linger in such surroundings after death was beyond me.

The atmosphere was getting to my fellow tourists, I could feel the tension rising. This bunch was definitely going to be seeing ghosts – whether there were any or not. Me, I was off to see the Wicked Witch of the East and not a flying house in sight.

I backed slowly away from the group into the far corner of the last vault chamber, between two pews and slipped a tiny crystal sword out of my purse. Morgan had given it to me. Apparently it was the wizard equivalent of a key. Now all I had to do was find the keyhole. Keeping my face towards the tour group I slid my hand over the wall behind me until my fingers found a small, cruciform crack. I slipped the little sword into it and the solid surface I was leaning against vanished.

I really don't like magic, especially when it lands me on my ass on a cold marble floor. The vaults and my tour group were gone. I was in a large square hall, its walls covered with elaborately carved paneling and numerous doors set in pedimented frames all lit by masses of thick yellow candles like the ones Harry uses.

I got to my feet and, feeling more than slightly idiotic, formally announced myself to the empty air: "Lieutenant Constanza Murphy, Chicago PD to see Ancient Mai on a matter of mutual advantage."

The air remained empty. Either nobody was at home or they weren't recieving callers. Okay, I'd tried. I still had the little crystal sword in my hand – don't ask me how, magic I guess – I selected a door and inserted it in the lock. This one opened in the normal way with a soft click, I stepped through into a long corridor. Its paneled walls were banked with flickering candles just like the entry but here the doors stood open. I kind of wished they didn't. Each led to a wizards' lab, like Harry's but larger, with even more books and rolled parchments and jars and weird carved boxes and odds and ends of things I couldn't identify and didn't want to. I _really_ don't like magic.

"Hello? Is anybody home?" Great, I come all the way to Scotland and the dragon lady isn't in.

I opened the door at the end of the passage and found myself back in the entry hall. Wait a minute…. I looked over my shoulder down a _perfectly straight_ corridor to the half open door I'd entered through, then across the square hall at the very _same_ half open door.

I _really truly _hate magic.

"Cute," I said aloud. "Now if you're quite finished playing games…"A long moment passed then, very quietly, a door to my left clicked open.

"Okay, now we're getting somewhere!"


	4. Chapter 4

I stepped through the door into – a squad room?

Okay, maybe not but it sure looked a _lot_ the office back home, battered desks and cubicle walls covered with notes, photos and snippets of newspaper. They even had a pair of beat up sofas and coffee machine in one corner just like _my_ squad room. And a bulletin board for Pete's sake! Harry had compared the wardens to cops and judging by what I was seeing they were a _lot_ more cop than wizard. There wasn't a cauldron, book or weird stuff of any description anywhere to be seen.

Another door opened and the normality abruptly stopped. I was in a short hall with a pointy arched ceiling, like a cathedral. And, at the far end, a pair of huge double doors all a-glow with the squiggly little signs and symbols wizards use in their spells. Slowly, majestically the doors swung open.

Great, I took a deep breath and stepped through. And there she was, Mai herself.

At least she was looking human today but she _was_ wearing black. On the other hand it looked like it was Donna Karan and she wasn't cackling. She was, however, holding a very familiar looking skull.

"Bob!" I blurted. Then; "How did you get him?"

"With considerable difficulty," she answered dryly. The floor was laid out in concentric circles of colored tiles with more sigils in between. Mai put Bob's skull down on the black bulls-eye in the in center of the room. "Hrothbert of Bainbridge, come forth!" The usual trail of sparks and smoke streamed out of the skull's eyeholes to resolve into an extremely tense Bob.

"What happened to Harry?" I asked right off, fearing the worst.

Bob smiled thinly. "Nothing, he was out shopping for food."

"Good move," I told our evil wizardess. "You'd be a greasy spot on his floor if he'd been home." She snorted and even Bob looked dubious. "Hey, I saw what he did to last wizard."

"Constanza," Bob said, pained, "You are not helping Harry's case."

It was my turn to snort. "C'mon, Bob, you yourself said old Evil Eye here'd already made up her mind about him." I turned to her, "You're still my leading suspect, lady, and Morgan's too." At least she was until I saw the expression of her face at the sound of Morgan's name. I could imagine being on the other side of that face if Kirmani turned against me. "On the other hand, maybe Harry is right about you," I said aloud.

She blinked. "Dresden?"

"_He_ thinks you're one of the good guys," I explained, "even if you are his own personal wicked witch. That's the only reason I'm here, Harry thought you should be given a chance, but stealing his mentor is probably going to change his mind big time."

Mai shook her head. "He's deceiving you, Lieutenant Murphy, and somehow he's suborned Morgan as well." She looked at Bob. "His teacher here will be able to tell me what he is up to."

Talk about your closed minds!

"Harry is doing everything in his power to discover and fight who or whatever is behind all this," Bob answered acidly.

"In other words he's doing exactly what _you_ should be doing instead of conducting a witch hunt," I added. Both wizards looked at me. Okay, poor choice of words there. I forged on trying to keep old evil eye's attention off Bob. I apparently had some legal protections as a mere mortal. Bob on the other hand was totally at her mercy. God knows what she would do to him to get information he didn't have. "We – or rather Harry – have been under continual attack since your council went bye-bye but we've still got no clue as to who's behind the curtain. Harry thinks we could help you and vice-versa – that is if you have any interest in discovering the truth."

Looked like she didn't, "Hrothbert of Bainbridge," Ancient Mai intoned, "I command you speak. Tell me your master's plans!"

Bob actually rolled his eyes. "My dear, Mai, Harry _never_ has a plan!"

I couldn't help it, I laughed. That was _so_ true.

She frowned. Then she looked at me. Fear flashed over Bob's face for the first time. "Leftenant Murphy is a mortal, Mai. She is protected by the accords!"

"The accords are as dead as the High Council, ghost," Mai replied but she turned her attention back to him. "Dresden doesn't have a plan," she mused. "Yes, that would be like him. Very well then, Hrothbert of Bainbridge I claim thee." All the sigils carved on Bob's skull lit up as she spoke; "I cancel the power of Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden over you and take it upon myself –"

"No!" Bob cried.

She ignored him. "I am your master, you will obey me. I bide thee return to thy former master, watch him and report to me –"

"NO!" this time Bob roared the word. "I will not spy on Harry – for you or anybody else!"

"Leave him alone!" I shouted. "Haven't you done enough to him?"

Neither wizard so much as looked at me, entirely intent upon each other. "Hrothbert of Bainbridge, obey me!" thundered Mai, her eyes beginning to glow.

"I. Will. Not!" Bob thundered right back, his skull burning blue-white at his feet.

Mai took a step backward, her eyes stopped glowing and her mouth dropped open slightly. "Hrothbert of Bainbridge," she said with an experimental note in her voice, "I banish you."

The sigils on the skull flared blindingly but Bob showed no sign of dissolving into smoke and lights. "I'm not going anywhere until Constanza is safely out of here," he gritted between clenched teeth. "Constanza, go!"

Like hell!

Ancient Mai stared at him, with wonder, fear and maybe a touch of awe. "Bob?" she said.

His face changed, startled and puzzled, "What?"

"Dresden," Mai breathed, "Dresden!" She took one step back, then another, shaking her head. "By all the powers I hope what you say of him is true, Bob, Constanza, for if it isn't we are all doomed." Then she raised her hand and pointed it at the skull.

I saw it begin to glow with power and threw myself forward – passing right through Bob – to cover his skull with my body. I heard his "No!" echo my own just before the world turned to flame.

"Constanza, Constanza!" somebody was holding me by the shoulders and shaking me. "Constanza, can you hear me?"

"Bob," I faltered, blinking afterimage out of my eyes. "Bob, are you all right?"

"Am I –" the hands on my shoulders tightened, shook me hard. "Am _I_ all right? Constanza, you could have been killed!"

"Yeah, well I wasn't." I could see now. Ancient Mai had vanished and It was Bob who was holding onto me his face inches away, furious as a mother whose kid has just run in front of a car. "Stop shaking me, Bob," I said feebly, "my head's fit to burst –" then the obvious hit me like a cement truck. "Bob, you're touching me!"

He looked down at his gripping hands and the anger washed out of his face leaving it totally blank.

"Bob, you're solid!"

He pried his hands open finger by finger then held them in front of his eyes his face still totally blank.

"Bob, where's your skull?"

He looked down. "I believe we're sitting on it," and sure enough the ground under us was gritty with fragments of bone.

I gulped, "I thought destroying your skull would destroy you?"

"So did I," he answered a little faintly.

"Bob," I said. "What just happened?"

"Constanza," he said. "I haven't the least idea."

Just then the doors were blasted. Ten feet tall if they were an inch and at least four inches thick they were ripped right off their hinges and hurled across the room, to hit the opposite wall with a boom cracking into half a dozen pieces.

A figure stood in the tall, arched doorway. It was, of course, Harry Dresden in full wrath of God mode with sparks coursing over his hockey stick and eyes black with fury.

"Hey!" I snarled. "Watch the pyrotechnics, will you? You could have killed us."

Harry blinked taking in me and Bob as we climbed shakily to our feet hanging onto each other for support. "You're all right," he said as if making a note of the fact. "You're both all right."

"I dunno," I admitted honestly. "Are you, Bob?"

He smiled faintly. "I am not at all sure, Constanza."

"Bob?" Harry came towards us, the hand not holding his hockey stick uncertainly extended. Bob reached out and took it and for a moment the two of them just stared at their joined hands. "I don't understand," said Harry after a long moment.

"Join the club," I answered.

"Is it the arrow again?" Harry asked making no sense at all.

But Bob seemed to understand. "No, Harry." He frowned. "Ancient Mai destroyed my skull with the results you see."

"Huh?"said Harry intelligently.

"I though destroying his skull destroyed Bob," I said.

"It would destroy Hrothbert of Bainbridge," said Morgan from the empty doorway. He was holding his sword and looked about as stunned as the rest of us, "But apparently not Bob."

That seemed to mean something to our ancient sorcerer but Harry and I were still out of the loop. "What?" we said together.

Bob looked at Harry with some of the same wonder and fear and awe I'd seen on Ancient Mai's face. "Hrothbert of Bainbridge is no longer my Name. You changed my Name, Harry."

"I gave you a nickname!"

"You did much more than that, Harry." Morgan joined the rest of us in the middle of the floor, skull bits crunching under his highly polished shoes. "You re-Named him. I suspected, but I couldn't believe…. You altered his essence. This is no longer Hrothbert of Bainbridge, the sorcerer who terrorized the mid-lands. This is Bob."

"Well, like, duh," I said and all three wizards looked at me. "Hey, I know Bob here's got a past but he's no more evil than either of you."

"Now," Bob said hesitantly, like he didn't quite believe it.

"Now is what counts," I answered.


End file.
